


The Ending Stays The Same

by SOMETHINREAL



Series: if we meet after time passes, we'll know [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Xu Ming Hao | The8, Getting Back Together, Hookups, It's not super explicit though, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Smut, Top Wen Jun Hui | Jun, it says post break up but they were never really a thing that got broken up, it's been four years, its more implied than anything, more of a fling than anything, they were never over each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: “Has it been that long?”(alternatively: it's been four years. they meet unexpectedly, then fuck for old time's sake. something comes up. feelings ensue).





	The Ending Stays The Same

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess and i based this off of an old shitty songfic that i had back in 2016 and abandoned because it was awful. i will not mention the song because that pretty fucking embarrassing ! also this is kinda sad at some parts but don't worry because ! all's well that ends well!
> 
> anyways basically what happened four years ago was they met on a trip and had a bit of a fling that ended up more than a fling, hence the gross feelings that came after they inevitably had to leave each other. i can't say any more because it ruins the whole thing but like they're both a mess (as they often are in my fics smh) also this is incredibly unbeta'd because I'm too lazy to re-read my shitty writing so excuse whatever errors there are in this. 
> 
> ps their ages are like 22 and 24 in this (two year difference instead of one) because i want minghao to have been a gullible teenager when they met (18 + 20)

Of all places, Junhui does not expect to see Minghao in the bar attached to his hotel in west Seoul. If anything, it’s the place he least expects to see Minghao. It’s been years, after all. Junhui doesn’t quite notice him at first, too busy nursing a beer and watching the enticing game of badminton playing on the shitty quality televisions above the bar, too busy bobbing his head along to the beat of whatever rock song is playing over the radio, too in his head to take in anything but these things. It’s actually Minghao who speaks to him first.

Minghao shouldn’t really be here. Well, not so much shouldn’t and more so _doesn’t enjoy_ being in the bar. He’s never really liked bars, or clubs, or any other things that would otherwise force him to make contact with actual breathing people. He prefers his desk job, writing things and not having to actually physically interact with others. His job is why he’s in Seoul, actually. He’s on a business trip that’ll last three days, then he’ll be back on his way to China, back to his job and away from all of the people that had offered him a drink in the last forty minutes.

He doesn’t need to be here, really, in the bar, but he’d been cooped up in his hotel room all day on a call and now it was too late to do anything outside of the hotel. The bar seemed the only appropriate option, plus, drinks are covered by the package his company had gotten on his stay and who was Xu Minghao to decline a free drink?

Junhui doesn’t think that Minghao would recognize him anymore, hell, he’d hardly recognized Minghao when he caught him out of the corner of his eye. It made sense for him not to, Junhui looks different now; his hair is no longer that short light brown it was when they were younger, now a dark black and long enough for him to pull back into a bun, which is how he wears it now. His face is no longer as soft, all sharp edges and shadows. He’s taller, leaner, more masculine, a stark contrast to what he used to be. So, it’s quite a bit of a shock when Minghao speaks up.

He’s been sitting next to Junhui for some ten minutes, whether or not he had been planning on saying something all along, Junhui is unsure, but he knows that when he sees Minghao turn out of the corner of his eye that there’s no avoiding things now.

“Wen Junhui,” Minghao says, and his voice is deeper, rougher, less feminine. This also makes sense. He’s what, twenty-two now? It’s been years, so it makes sense that his voice has changed. “Long time no see.”

Junhui doesn’t turn to look at him straight away, but the corners of his lips turn up into the hint of a smile. “No kidding.”

“Four years, actually.”

“Has it been that long?” Junhui asks, but he knows damn well that it’s been more than four years since the last time he saw Minghao, in the park down the street from the hotel they had stayed at, reminding him that he’d be flying home soon and they’d never see each other again, even though Minghao knew. Four years since he said he’d be back. Four years since he wasn’t. Four years is a long time.

Minghao hums over the music, and Junhui turns to him. He looks different now, too. His hair is darker now, a deep chestnut, much different from the strawberry blond it used to be, and longer, too, falling over his eyes. His face is more sculpted now, sharp cheekbones and jawline and an adam’s apple that protrudes from his long neck more noticeably. He’s no longer a boy, Junhui realizes, Minghao is a man.

“So, what are you doing here, then? I mean, besides looking pretty. Last time I checked you’re still in China,” Junhui asks after a moment. Minghao remembers how comments such as those would make him blush profusely, how Junhui had him wrapped around his finger with all of the _you’re so pretty_ comments. He hates how it still works.

“I am, but I think I’m going to relocate here in a few months for work. I’m on a business trip right now. On the side people pay me to write them poetry, which is kinda cool, I suppose. I’m only here because it’s late and I have nothing better to do. You?” Minghao tips back his beer glass, letting the drink sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing thickly, eyes locking with Junhui’s.

“I needed a drink,” he says, “but that’s not what you were asking, was it?” Junhui watches as Minghao shakes his head. “I live here now, have for two years, after I left home. I have a flat, too, but it’s gotten pretty boring, so booked a room here for a few nights.”

“What have you been up to besides that? I mean, four years is a pretty long time, don’t you think?” There’s a hint of bitterness on Minghao’s tongue, but it’s easily brushed off when he grins. “So what? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Married? What’s new, Junhui?”

Junhui laughs a little bit at his eagerness, but shakes his head gently. “No, none of those, not right now, anyways. I had a fling a while back, but it meant nothing and was over before it started. Besides that, my life is pretty boring. I’m a writer for a local online magazine, but that’s about it. I was never very interesting, remember?”

“Nonsense. You were plenty interesting. You just forget the important things. Catch me up, Jun.” A sigh, then Junhui nods. Minghao orders them both a beer.

-

They catch up for an hour and a half. Turns out, four years was a really long time, and they’ve both missed out on a lot. They talk as though it hasn’t been more than a day since the last time they saw each other, laughing and joking and Junhui’s hand is on Minghao’s thigh and Minghao’s chair is incredibly closer than it had been earlier on in the night, but they’re tipsy on cheap beer and too happy to care.

“Hey,” Junhui breathes, “this has been bothering me since it happened. I wanted to-- just-- were you there? Five months after?”

Minghao gets quiet for a moment, eyes blinking a few times before he speaks. “Nah,” he says with a grin.

“Really? Holy shit, thank god. I felt like such an asshole, worrying whether or not you were there waiting.” Junhui’s shoulders untense at Minghao’s words, a look of relief evident on his face.

“I wasn’t, so don’t worry. A lot happened in five months, you know?”

Junhui sighs. “I’m so relieved. I never wanted to be the asshole, things just got in the way and-”

“Hey,” Minghao says, “I wasn’t there, so it doesn’t matter. Don’t sweat it, alright?” Junhui nods gently at him. “It’s getting late,” Minghao says after a moment of silence. Junhui looks to the clock and, yeah, it’s half past midnight and the bar closes at one; they’re the last people left and the bartender looks half asleep. He nods his head, unsure of what will come next. Minghao’s hand is overlapping Junhui’s on his thin thigh, now, fingers warm and bony against Junhui’s. “I don’t have a meeting until three tomorrow.”

An invitation.

They can’t keep their hands off each other in the elevator. Fingers tugging at collars and lips pressing against the hollows of throats, too much too soon but so good all at once. Minghao fumbles with the keycard but once he gets it to work, Junhui strips him of all of his clothes, taking his time, as if to remember each individual part of Minghao again. He moves in sections, peeling off each article of clothing with the utmost diligence. Jeans; underwear beneath, dress-shirt; nothing beneath. He kisses every inch of skin he can get to, leaving soft hues of red and rose in his wake, until the heated skin under his lips is trembling and Minghao is whining _please, Junnie, please touch me, please make me feel good_ , because yeah, Xu Minghao had always been a vocal little shit, so why would this be any different?

Junhui is eager in complying, digging through the bag Minghao tells him he has some of what they needed, and digging through his wallet for the rest. He takes his time in prepping Minghao relishing in the way his body reacts to each press, each slide, each crook of his fingers, whining and writhing and practically begging for Junhui to hurry up and fuck him because he needs it, they both need it. Junhui has missed this.

He had one fling that lasted some six months or so, and another that lasted a shorter period of time, at four, but both were just sex and neither were as good as Minghao, as stupid as it is to admit. Junhui had always liked the way that Minghao had felt under him, even though they had only done it so many times, but he had always liked the way his body reacted and how his name sounded on Minghao’s tongue.

Speaking of it, Minghao is currently quivering underneath Junhui, moaning out an unclear combination of _Jun, Junnie, please_ , and, _harder, please, so close_. Junhui had never been one to deny such an eloquent request, especially from the one Xu Minghao. So he does. He goes hard and fast until Minghao can’t even form a coherent sentence and they both reach their climax, then falls down beside Minghao with a huff once it’s over. He cleans them both up like he always used to, handing Minghao clean boxers and a hoodie from his suitcase and slipping into most of what he had on before. Junhui climbs into bed with him, wrapping his arms around Minghao’s small frame, pulling him so that he was on his chest and pressing his chin to the top of Minghao’s head.

They lie like this for a while, but eventually it’s nearly two and Junhui isn’t sure if he should stay or not. Minghao sits up and they stare for a moment at each other, both unsure of what’s to come next. Junhui decides he should probably go to save awkwardness in the morning. He slips on his jeans and converse, telling Minghao that his room number is 1007 and that he should come up tomorrow so they can talk some more.

“Hey, Minghao?” he asks before he leaves, and Minghao looks up from where he was staring at his fingers. “Why didn’t you show up? What if I’d been there? I mean, I would have if-”

“Ah,” Minghao interrupts, “the nameless reason why you couldn’t be there. You know I’d be flattered if-”

“Hey, you don’t get to be upset about me not being there if you- oh my god,” Junhui breaks off quietly, moving to sit down on the foot of Minghao’s bed. He’s such a fucking idiot. “You were there, weren’t you?”

Minghao smiles sadly at him. “Of course I was there, you piece of shit.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, because it had been four years ago. Then again, this is exactly why he feels so okay in saying it. He had been gullible at the time, but fuck, what teenager wouldn’t jump at a hot twenty year old college student offering himself to them? Minghao was so in love and so infatuated with the idea of being in love that he’d pounce at any given opportunity, and there Junhui was, his very own opportunity in the form of a seat partner on the train from Taichung to Taipei. This had been the route of Minghao’s problem, and the hidden cause of every single one after the fact.

“I’m so sorry,” Junhui says, and he means it, but Minghao just waves him off.

“It’s whatever,” he responds. “We were kids. I was gullible. I don’t hold a grudge.”

“But you wasted your money on a plane ticket-- you went and I wasn’t there, oh my god, I’m such a fucking asshole, Minghao I’m so--”

“Hey,” Minghao breathes out quietly. “It’s fine, Junhui. I’m not mad at you.” It gets quiet for a moment. Junhui opens his mouth to speak, but Minghao shakes his head. “It’s getting late,” he adds, “you should get to bed.”

-

A knock startles Junhui from where he’s sat in the hotel bed watching some Korean idol survival show. It ten fifty three. He knows it’s Minghao at the door. He gets up slowly, walking to the door an unlocking it, a smile gracing his lips when he sees Minghao.

“Hi,” Minghao says quietly.

“Hi. Good morning.” It’s weird. It feels like absolutely no time has passed and they’re still the same kids they were years ago, the ones who met on a train and ended up spending five days together in Taipei, the ones who fell in love so easily and wouldn’t let what happened go. The wave of nostalgia hits Junhui like a brick wall. “Come in,” he says, and holds open the door.

They don’t talk as Minghao walks in and sits down on the rolling desk chair. The both of them sit and watch the television for a second; Junhui understands more than Minghao does but it’s better than sitting in awkward silence. They both stare straight ahead of them, eyes boring into the small television, unsure of whether or not to to speak about what happened the night before or not.

Minghao rolls his chair over to the side of Junhui’s bed. He sniffles as Junhui sits in front of him. Gently, Junhui presses his forehead to Minghao’s, wiping the hot tears running down his cheeks with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry.”

“Why weren’t you there?” his voice cracks as he speaks. “I-I waited for you, Junhui. I stayed at the train station until they kicked me out. I stayed the full week at the hotel, I brought you a gift I-- I made the hotel page you, in case you were there--”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Hao.”

“You know, I’ve had flings and hookups over the years, but I felt nothing. Why? Because of you, Junhui. They meant absolutely nothing to me, no matter how hard I tried, because I wanted to know something that I would never have the answer to. After a while, I started out the days fine, I was happy and smiling, but eventually I ran out of things to keep me numb. Why wasn’t I enough for you to come back?” Minghao asks, and he sounds so broken that it hurts Junhui’s heart.

“I was scared, Minghao. And I know that it’s not an excuse and I hope you never forgive me or let me live it down because it’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I regret not being there every day since it happened, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t go and that I left you, Minghao. I’m sorry that I ruined it for you. What we had in Taipei, that was the best week of my entire life,” Junhui says, “You made me rethink things I never thought I would have to rethink. You shed light on things that I had never even considered until you walked into my life. When we had to leave, and we made plans to meet up again, I was so scared that you wouldn’t show. I overthought the whole thing to the point that I had talked myself out of going because I was saving myself heartbreak. It made things so much worse and I can see that clearly now. I am so, so, so fucking sorry, Minghao. Can you please give me another chance?”

“You’re damn fucking right you ruined it for me,” he says, “and I don’t forgive you. You’re a piece of shit for that.” Minghao bumps their noses gently, leaning so that their lips brush, featherlight when he speaks. “But you were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and also the worst. I already have a book of poetry written about you, are you sure you want to make it another three?”

“I can make sure that they’ll all be about how you’re overflowing with love for me,” Junhui says.

“You really are a piece of shit,” Minghao scoffs, but he kisses Junhui anyways.

“I’m so sorry, Minghao, I really am.”

Minghao hums softly. “You’re lucky you’ve been my muse for the past four years.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/hfkyounghyun)


End file.
